mardi 20 juillet 2010

a sacred poem


transport the morsel
bring and shine fade and take
illuminate us oh lord
the transfiguration of your ballyhoo
has left us bleeding from our thumbs
the blood drops down onto
our knees the final nail in the coffin
and you so bloody erect
in the final days of your graciousness
what is left but ache and rage
as i look on in horror at
all the things i never wanted
a stampeding of the horses
and the runaways in the field
the beleagured witches
the veiled totems
symbols upon a cross in wales
and the diamond mines
and the furious gales
we're lost at sea, mon pote
we're lost and yet
who gives a fuck
it's a merry-go-round this life
i'll take the white one
you take the black
and we'll race back to old hackensack
break open the mail
and read old poems like fruity plums
and eat of each other to stay alive

1 commentaire:

Liz a dit…

Love two lines ... really love them, second line and the Hackensack line. Also the tenor at the end ... wow, pretty raw. Very Good.